


Adventures in Reading

by Rochelle_Rochelle



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Humor, Joanlock - Freeform, Light Smut, Purple Prose, Vaguely defined nudity and sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24728989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Rochelle/pseuds/Rochelle_Rochelle
Summary: Yup. I have returned like Persephone from the depths to strew the seeds of light smut and even lighter humor. Plus I needed a little diversion.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Joan Watson (Elementary)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	Adventures in Reading

Carefully walking a full cup of coffee to the table, Joan was not prepared. 

“Beloved!” Sherlock stood at the kitchen’s entrance with an odd, almost beatific expression on his face.

Joan put her cup down, sat and squinted at him.

“Come away with me.” He walked towards her. “Up to the roof where we shall lay before the hives, in the sun and the open air, and satisfy our carnal needs.” He sat at the table with her and leaned in, practically growling, “I wish to consume you, body and soul. Let us give way to lust and, bare-bottomed, rut in the light of day. What say you?” Chest puffed and a wild look in his eyes, he awaited her reply.

Joan took a slow first sip of her coffee. “You’ve been up all night reading our victim’s romance novels, haven’t you?”

“Yup.” Popping the “p” for effect, he sat back. “Though if you’re willing, I certainly wouldn’t say no to some al fresco rutting. The weather is warm enough.” With a boyish smile and a tilt of the head, he took her cup and had a sip.

“I’ll take a rain check,” she smirked and took back her cup. “Ask me again around midnight.”

“Will do.” He produced a tattered paperback from his jacket pocket and plunked it on the table. “As titillating as all these good books were, they also served to point me right to the killer.”

Joan listened in rapt attention as he proceeded to fill her in on his theory and how the physical and written evidence clicked into place, fully fitting said theory. “So, by now” he checked his watch, “Marcus should have Fabiano de Roca waiting for us at the precinct.”

She pushed her half full cup towards him. A well-solved crime gave her a better rush than caffeine. “Good work. I’ll go get dressed.”

The hot shower was well needed after a long day of sitting in precinct’s grimy interrogation rooms. Clean, hair dried, content, Joan belted her robe and opened the bathroom door. Sherlock stood in the shadowed hall, shirt wide open and untucked, waiting for her. “It is midnight,” he whispered as he came up to her. 

Joan took his left hand and, pushing back on his unbuttoned shirt sleeve, checked his watch, “Well, so it is.” She looked him straight in the eyes. “Are you asking again?” 

“Mm hmm.” He took a step closer. “And your answer is?”

She took a moment and not meeting his eyes, fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. “But we won’t be bare-bottomed in the light of day.” 

“True.” He playfully tugged at the belt of her robe. “Yet, there is a full and rather buttery moon to which we might expose ourselves, if you are so inclined.” He snuck a look up to her face and found his answer in her eyes. The belt gave way under his guidance and her robe parted.

The climb to the roof was slowed by intermittent stops to shed what little garments they wore and soft caresses to that which was newly revealed until at last they stepped out unfettered into the night air. 

The brownstone’s rooftop glowed enchanted under the warm light of the moon; the jeweled lights of the City across the river rendered a backdrop to its beauty. Joan stepped to the rooftop’s edge and marveled. 

Magical. And yet Sherlock was only entranced by her, by the light as it defined her naked form, by the wisps of hair sent aloft around her in the night breeze. 

He stepped up behind her a gently pressed his body against hers. She eased back into him as his arm wrapped around her, his fingers splayed and pressed into the soft flesh of her abdomen. Her body tingled with pleasure as his other hand cupped at her breast, thumb circling tenderly, as his lips found her ear and breathlessly whispered. “Well, shall we have a go at it then?”

Joan turned her head and giggled; her body shook against him with laughter. Her laughter was an aphrodisiac more potent than anything he had ever encountered. He knew how to make her laugh and she loved him all the more for it. 

“I suppose,” she smiled and answered in the most disinterested tone she could manage while her body cried out her need for him.

“Come, lay with me and let us sate our lust. Let mistress moon jealously watch our bodies writhe with pleasure.” He led her forward. Large pillows, soft sheets, silken throws awaited. Joan marveled at the nest he’d created for them. 

“You took notes while you read those novels?” 

“A few.” He attempted a light answer but his voice was roughened with need. Looking at her, he could no longer wait. Muscled, hirsute, satyr-like in his aroused state, Joan too could wait no longer. 

One breath and they tumbled towards each other, falling, already entwined, onto the pillows. Rushing into each other, mouths open and full, tongues, teeth against flesh, they started the process of satisfaction. Fingers played and teased and thrust until lips and tongues took over. Wet and thick they fit into each other, pulsated and gasped with pleasure until the very air, moonlight, and bodies liquified and flowed, filling every inch of them until trembling, the flesh succumbed, released into ecstasy. 

He lay on her breast, spent, breathing in the essence of her. She, equally spent, languidly raked her fingers through his hair. 

“I think I’m going to invest in a few more romance novels for you, historical ones.” She teased and he chuckled. 

“Pirates?” He offered and laid a gentle kiss on her collar bone. 

“Mmmm, yes, pirates, but a lady pirate and proud English captain she can have her way with.”

“Oh yes,” he scooted himself up to her mouth and kissed her, lingering over her lips. “Give me a little time to rest and perhaps, before dawn, we can raise the Jolly Roger.” He leered, she laughed. They settled comfortably against each other, dozing as mistress moon continued her travels.

**Author's Note:**

> I assume an ongoing relationship.  
> Not set in any particular season.  
> And obviously no offense to romance novels.


End file.
